


The Eagle and the Lion

by Audrea_Lannistark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrea_Lannistark/pseuds/Audrea_Lannistark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Silm Fan for writing John's part! You can see more of her work at http://www.wattpad.com/stories/search/silmfan?ref=1</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Skipping Class and Staircases

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Silm Fan for writing John's part! You can see more of her work at http://www.wattpad.com/stories/search/silmfan?ref=1

Note: Credit to Silm Fan for writing John's part. You can reach her here: http://www.wattpad.com/stories/search/silmfan?ref=1

 

A young John Hamish Watson rushed through the portrait hole, hoping to god he wouldn't be late to class again. His red scarf threatened to fall off his shoulder while he held tight to his bag in order to keep the books and papers from flying out. He took the stairs two, no, three at a time, staring at the ground, trying to remember the way to his classroom. Left, right, right, was it? Or was it left -- Oh god. He was lost. The muggleborn looked down the hall but the only person in sight was a black-haired Ravenclaw. "Excuse me." He said, breathing hard. "Would you mind directing me towards the Charms classroom?" all, black-haired Ravenclaw. "Excuse me." He said, breathing hard. "Would you mind directing me towards the Charms classroom?"

"Actually, yes, I would mind. As you can clearly see, I'm trying to study. If you had the sense to check your schedule you'd see the Charms classroom is two storeys up, on the left."

John took a step back, blinking. He was surprised at the other boy’s rude tone. "Well, I am so sorry for interrupting you." He snapped, beginning to walk back towards the stairs. At the foot of the stairs he turned back around, face slightly red out of anger. "And puh-lease don't act all high and mighty just because you know how these bloody stairs work." Just as he was done speaking, as if to mock him, the stairs slid out of place, turning towards one of the other hallways. Now he would have to wait another five minutes for the thing to come back around.

The dark-haired boy chuckled. "Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. And yes, you've just got to pat them, obviously." He ran his hand along the railing as the staircase re-lined up.

John stared at this Sherlock for a moment, wide-eyed. "Yes, obviously." He muttered, sarcastic tone returning, as it so often did. "Well, nice to meet you, Holmes." He said formally, as his parents had taught him. "I'm Watson, John Watson. Thanks, though I might as well give up on getting there on time—I hadn't done the homework any how."

"The Levitating spell practice? Simple. It's Levi-oh-sa, not Levi-oh-sa."

"O-oh. Thanks...?" John stuttered, lifting his head to look at the taller boys face. God, he could cut himself on those cheekbones. "I take it you have the same class -- Why are you out here," He put air quotes around the next word, "Studying?"

Sherlock assumed a smug look once again. "Boring."

John shook his head, astonished at the nerve of this other kid. "Your skivving class because it’s boring?" He questioned, readjusting his scarf. “Wait, no, I don't have time for this." And with that he turned around, taking the stairs slowly, as if he didn't really want to leave.

"Wait..." Said Sherlock. There was a flicker of desperation on his face, but almost immediately it changed back to the cold, stone-cut look. "I mean, I can skip classes any time I want."

John turned around to face Sherlock, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "Yeah, anyone can. Are you saying I should join you?" He has missed the quick appearance of desperation, but definitely not the somewhat pleading tone of voice from Sherlock. "Maybe you could teach me something, being a Ravenclaw and all."

"Well, Dumbledore is way too soft to give anything worse than a mild detention. You can see it in his eyes. The way he treats brothers, like the Weasleys, obviously indicates he's had problems with his own brother. I basically have immunity—with Mycroft here, he can't touch me.”

"Oh, yes, obviously." John murmured, rolling his eyes playfully. "And I take it that means because I have a sister I can skip class? Good enough for me." The young Gryffindor leaned against the wall, wondering what he'd end up doing during the newly freed hour. Hanging out with this Sherlock guy didn't seem too bad.

"Quite so," Said Sherlock "Even more than I would. His sister died at fourteen, after she was hit by his or his brothers' curse. Guilt consumed him, and he hasn't had the courage ever since."

John just shook his head. "How do you even know this?" He questioned, wondering if maybe he knew the Headmaster personally.

Sherlock laughed. "I grabbed his journal."

"His journal." John muttered, disbelieving. "Wouldn't it have a ton of bloody protective spells? Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"His protective spells are rudimentary at best,” Sherlock continued. “I broke them with a few I made up."

"Wow, um, okay." John stuttered. "Isn't making up spells like... really advanced stuff?

"Elementary, my dear Watson."

John smiled slowly. He wasn't sure why, but he liked the sound of that. "Well, even though we may not get into much trouble, we should still go somewhere else. What fun is skipping if we're just gonna stand in the corridor for an hour?"

"Come with me. There's something I want to show you." Sherlock liked this boy, for some odd reason he couldn't quite place yet. He grabbed John's hand and their knapsacks and raced down the hall.


	2. Backstories and Backrooms

John's eyes widened in surprise as Sherlock took hold of his hand. His skin tingled where it made contact with Sherlock's. He pushed the thought aside and just ran, attempting to keep up with Sherlock's long legs.

They raced through the corridors, taking turn after turn after turn. Finally they reached the Ravenclaw common room. "I'm not really supposed to show you this, but it's quite amazing." Sherlock opened the door, took John up a winding staircase, and brought him to the window. They gazed out at the massive Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, the greenhouses, and finally, the sun rising above it all, settling in to its noonday place.

"That’s, that’s..." John was speechless. "Thanks, Holmes. It's really beautiful." He rested his elbows on the windowsill, looking out on the scene. "You Ravenclaws are lucky. The Gryffindor dorms mostly just look out over the forest."

"Not to brag, but they do say we have the best view. The first day, when I skipped Potions, I found this place. It's almost entirely concealed to any in the common room." He gestured to the ground, where fat Muggle chemistry textbooks lay. "I moved my books in yesterday. It's a great place to concentrate. Sometimes, in the common room, you can't even hear yourself think. Must be even louder in the Gryffindor tower."

"Wow, that's pretty smart." John remarked, pulling himself into a sitting position on the windowsill. Now facing the rest of the room, he examined it, as well as the books that were on the floor too. "Yeah, it’s really loud in there. Especially after Quidditch matches. Are you not a muggleborn, then?" If Sherlock needed help in that particular class, well, John was quite the expert.

Sherlock looked down at his feet, a sad smile on his face. "Yeah, I am," he said. "But I've never been like other children. They would ask for my honest opinion on something, but when I told them the truth, they'd get mad at me! What did they want, for me to lie to them? I'd lie to my enemies, yes, but I'm not Slytherin enough to lie to my friends."

John nodded. "Some people can be so confusing, so rude." He kicked his legs back and forth as he spoke. "That's good though—the not lying thing. I know I'd hate it if someone lied to me, even if they were telling me things I'd want to hear."

"Me too," Sherlock replied. "My mum always said 'Treat your friends the way you want to be treated.' So I did. But the next thing I know, I haven't even got any friends. That wasn't even the worst of it."

John listened carefully. "For some reason, no one I've ever known goes by that rule. It's a right shame." He paused for a moment, and then gave a quiet, content sigh. "I'll be your friend, of course."

Sherlock looked up in astonishment. "Really? I haven't had a friend since...I can't even remember. Nobody likes me. They called me names...Freak. Weirdo. Psychopath." in a moment of spontaneity, he grabbed John's hands with both of his. "Thank you, John Watson."

Once again John's eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced down at their hands. He didn't move his, however, and instead looked back at Sherlock’s face again. "You'll have to help me with my studies, of course, being the smart-arse you are." He teased. He purposely did not reply to that part about Sherlock being called a freak; that was now in the past.

Sherlock blushed and turned away, releasing John’s hand. “Well, yes, of course. As long as I get something in return. I’m not Slytherin, but my brother is. I know enough not to help people without getting anything in return.”

"I'm sure I'll find something to give you." John said, smirking. He rested his hands on the stone beside him once more. "I think I might've heard of your brother before—Mycroft? He seems real polite for a Slytherin."

"Polite? Well, I don't think you've met him then." Sherlock chuckled. "Yeah, I guess he is. To adults, and strangers. But you won't like him once you get to know him." Sherlock turned away. "Come on," he said. "It's almost time for lunch."

"Okay." John said simply, sliding off the window. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, following his new friend out of the Ravenclaw commons.


End file.
